


The Knight's Weapon

by deskclutter



Category: Fables - Willingham, Princess Tutu
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Run Away, the pen is totally mightier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deskclutter/pseuds/deskclutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set some time before the Homelands arc and after the end of Princess Tutu. The Adversary and his army come to call on Kinkan/Gold Crown Town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Knight's Weapon

  
**The Knight's Weapon**

  
When the invaders came to Kinkan Town, the people closed the gates and huddled in their houses. The goblin soldiers grumbled softly under the watchful eyes of the wooden officers. They had been spoiling for a fight and this town seemed to be more of the same: just another quiet town that would surrender quietly when push came to shove.

A wooden soldier rode up to the largest gates. In a strident voice, he called for the town leader to come out and parley. Still the gates remained closed and the army began to grow restless. There were other towns to be ransacked that would likely be more fun than this quiet, sleepy place.

Another man rode up, a dumpy little man with a white moustache and kindly bespectacled eyes. The goblins did not want to let him pass, but the wooden soldiers glared at them and told them to let the favoured of the Emperor through. The two gates stood tall and solid as the old man rode up to the wooden soldier at the gate, and the soldier repeated his command. "The mayor," instructed the old man. "Call for the town mayor, Thomas."

The soldier nodded and did so. Suddenly the doors began to pull open with an ominous creak, and the soldiers gripped their weapons a fraction tighter, their breaths held in anticipation. A crack of light appeared, and then was no more; a young man had stepped out.

The goblins stared for a moment longer, then broke out into pockets of raucous laughter until the wooden soldiers hushed them forcefully. The boy did not glance to the laughter, but instead kept his contemptuous gaze on the old man. His long hair was tied neatly back and in one hand he held sheets of white paper while the other carried a long feathered pen.

The old man regarded the boy gravely, and asked, "Are you the mayor of this town?"

"No," replied the other. "I am its knight."

"_You_?" exclaimed the wooden soldier, but the old man held up a hand to forestall the outburst. "Is there no chance of a peaceful surrender? I'd prefer to settle this without bloodshed."

"Your army doesn't seem to think so," remarked the knight dryly, when the goblins jeered. "But fortunately, I agree with you."

"May I accept your surrender, then?" asked the kindly old gentleman.

"No," said the boy. The wooden soldier gasped in outrage at the boy's cheek, and the old man asked him to step back several paces.

"Tell me," said the knight. "What do you know about this town?" Both ignored the shouts of the wooden men as the called the army to stay in position.

"I know this town was once governed by a story, just as my life once was," said the old man. "And I know that this town's prince and princess have flown away, just as the first prince of my life left long ago. I was heartbroken when he left. He was my first son."

"And your wife?" said the knight. "How did she feel when he left?"

"I have no wife," the old man admitted. "I was father and mother both to him, the first child I carved with my own two hands, and I've been father and mother to countless children since. I love them all dearly, and that's why I don't want them to fight. I don't want to see them hurt." But he gave a helpless laugh and shrug. "But kids will be kids. That's why I'm here to ask you to let them go without a fight."

The boy looked unmoved. "I know your story," he said. The wind rattled at the paper and tugged at the feather, but he merely changed his grip and held fast to them. "You're Geppetto, father of the wooden puppet Pinocchio. I read your story years ago."

"I am," admitted Geppetto. "You say you know my story? Then you know how well I love Pinocchio. I hold all of my other children in the same regard."

The knight held up a hand. "Tell me. If Pinocchio returned to you again, what would you do?"

Above them, dark clouds began to gather and the few people watching the proceedings from the wall looked up in dismay. "Quack!!" said a little bird sized figure.

"No, he can't hurry it up," the bespectacled boy beside her snapped. "He has to follow the story." The wind ruffled the papers again and both looked on with a bit of worry, though the other boy would have denied it. "Quack," whispered the duckling.

Geppetto looked surprised. "Well! I'd rejoice. I'd break out the fatted calf and I would keep him by my side so that the both of us would be happy. He's never truly happy when he's out on his own, that boy. He would live with me for as long as a Fable could live and we'd both be happy forever."

"That's funny," said the knight. "Because the greatest gift I was given by my father was the day he learnt to let me go."

"I'm sorry?" said Geppetto.

"I was once told that love might be born of tainted intent yet the love itself might not necessarily be tainted," said the boy. "Now I see that a love might be formed with pure intent, but the love itself be tainted by self-interest."

"Listen here," said Geppetto. "I didn't come here to discuss Pinocchio with you. Our stories overlap, boy. It would be in all our interests if Kinkan surrendered peaceably."

"I don't think ours overlap to such a great extent as you seem to think," said the boy. "I didn't come out to surrender. I never had any intention of surrendering. I'm governed by the story, and so are you: I have to play by its rules if I'm to win. And in the story, I have to listen to how you might persuade me, how I might give in. But that's irrelevant now. I've caught the loophole. It's fairly straightforward from now; you're a children's book character and I've played by your rules."

"What would you know of stories, Kinkan's knight?" Geppetto asked, incensed. His irritation was becoming more obvious, and it began to raise the goblins' hopes. It wouldn't be much of a fight, but it would be more interesting than the past few weeks. "You don't even have a sword! You're a useless knight. I demand to speak to someone higher up."

"A useless knight?" said the boy. "I thought so once too. But I changed. Some of us aren't afraid of that."

"Kill him!" Geppetto ordered in anger, and the army let out a cheer that was half outrage and half glee. It drowned out the loud "QUACK!" from the town walls, and masked the brief scuffle where the bespectacled boy grabbed the duck to prevent her from flying down to the knight. They rushed forward as the wind ran through their pennants and banners, snapping them sharply. Thunder boomed in the distance.

The boy took a step back and looked up. "What is a story without external predicaments to advance the plot?" he murmured, as though reciting an oft repeated lesson. "But tragedy isn't a favourite ending of mine." He smiled thinly at Geppetto, then the knight set his pen to the fluttering paper and began to write.  
__

_Fakir took his pen in hand, and prayed that the luck of the story would be on his side._ Don't let the ink run dry or let the paper run out,_ he hoped.  
_

_The first arrow flew through the air and the first sword swung wildly. Fakir felt the loss of his own sword keenly, but neither weapon touched him, nor did any touch the walls of Kinkan Town. The army tried to run forward, but there was always a distance between them and the knight no matter how long their stride or how wildly they flung their arrows at him.  
_

_Geppetto's apron flapped in the wind. "Oh, now, stop this nonsense. Can't we speak like civilised people?" he asked, with a plea in his voice that Fakir knew to be false.  
_

_"We already tried that," Fakir called back. "It didn't work. The time for speaking is over, Geppetto!"  
_

_"Is that how things are to be?" Geppetto shouted back, as the afternoon turned into darkness. "Stop," he snapped at his army, who took several long minutes to ceasetheir attack, despite the obvious futility of it. The roar of the army died down and only the wind's howling could be heard. "Words are to be cast aside in favour of petty magics and a call to arms?"  
_

_ "Hardly," Fakir replied, raising one eyebrow slightly and tilting his head. "You told me earlier that I was a useless knight."  
_

_"I apologise for that. I was upset, and I took it out on you. Can we start over?" Geppetto asked, holding out a hand.  
_

_Fakir shook his head. "That's impossible at this point." Children deal in absolutes, he remembered, and he had to treat Geppetto accordingly. "What I want to tell you is that belief is powerful. You do know that, don't you?"  
_

_Geppetto took the condescension without a fuss. "Of course," he said. He must have hoped that there was a chance for him to win at this point.  
_

_"There's a saying that's quoted a lot," Fakir said. "People say it so much that they come to believe in it."  
_

_"What's the saying?" Geppetto asked.  
_

_"'The pen is mightier than the sword.'" Understanding dawned on Geppetto's face. "As I said, some of us aren't afraid of change. I traded in one weapon for another."  
_

_Geppetto called out to Fakir, "Knight! You know that resistance is futile! I'll only return with a stronger army, and more power to counter yours! Why not surrender peacefully now? Kinkan will continue exactly as it has. The only difference is that it will have the Emperor's blessing over it!"  
_

_Fakir the knight said, "We've been puppets before, Geppetto. I'm in no hurry to relive the experience, and I won't allow it to happen again while I'm the steward of Kinkan Town." He pushed the image of Edel and Ahiru dancing to the tune of an old man's story and a sudden stinging pain in his hand out of his mind; now was the time to focus on the story. He would make sure that never happened again.  
_

_His grip on the paper turned white-knuckled, but Fakir refused to let either the paper or the pen loose to the winds. He had told Mytho that he would write the town's story, and he would not let his best friend down. He had promised Ahiru that he would stay by her side (and did he hear a quack behind him?), and he would keep that promise. He heard thunder boom somewhere in the distance. An idea came to him.  
_

_"Do you hear that?" he asked the army, and right on cue, thunder crashed. "The thunder will be the drums that march you back to where you came from," the knight said grimly. "You will march with the storm until the thunder becomes too faint to hear, and neither this army nor any other army that the Emperor sends will come within twenty leagues of Kinkan Town. Though you may use magic or maps to look for us, you won't find us. This town won't be part of the Empire for as long as I live, and I intend to live for a very long time." He looked to Geppetto. "Thank you, wood carver, for reminding me that you might come back. Don't bother looking for a loophole; it's intent that matters here."  
_

_Geppetto turned purple with rage, but he could do nothing as thunder crashed like the falling of bowling pins magnified a thousand times over. Fakir watched and wrote as the army turned away, moving as an orderly unit for the first time. He did not turn his back on them until they became a large speck in the distance.  
_

_As he stood there, the inhabitants of Kinkan Town began to trickle out from behind the city walls to watch with him. First came a yellow duck, who flew at him and almost made him drop his pen. She was followed by a bespectacled youth with musician's fingers, then a blacksmith, and two girls from Fakir's school. As the first drops of rain began to fall, the whole town, or what seemed like it, stood by him as the would-be invaders went away. The townspeople began to cheer. They rushed to congratulate and thank their knight while the army marched away to the beat of drums and the crash of giants' ninepins._


End file.
